


the darkest shade of blue

by transmage



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, please be patient as i try and figure out how to write the siblings mostly in character lmao, point of view will likely switch around, tense consistency? idk her, this is basically an Eudora Lives au because i liked her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transmage/pseuds/transmage
Summary: Things go a little differently at the motel, and Eudora realizes Diego's family is even more of a mess than he'd ever let on.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been thirty minutes.

Eudora checks her watch for perhaps the fiftieth time, her foot tapping against the concrete sidewalk outside the motel. This was bad. Not just because there were two murderers hiding out inside, not just because they were probably holding Diego’s brother hostage, but also because… This was _against protocol_.

_“Just for once, do things my way.”_

Diego’s voice echoes in her mind, his face contorted between rage and grief, blinking back tears he’s too proud to shed.

Her heart aches at the image. Though their relationship ended long ago, she still _cared_. And she certainly knew he still did, no matter how many times he pressed his snark and snuck around crime scenes, pretending to be a cop, pretending to be more than a play at a superhero.

She sighs.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe this case was too much for a cop. If it really was tied to his family and all their bizarre abilities, maybe _unconventional_ was needed.

She checks her watch again.

“Dammit, Diego, come on…”

Fifteen more minutes. If he didn’t show, she’d go alone. The decision is made with a slump against an untrustworthy looking bench, flaking green paint no doubt clinging to her pants as she leans forward and rakes her fingernails over the fabric. The familiar temptation to get a pack of cigarettes crawls back up her skin. She can feel her hands trembling ever slightly, her heart rate climbing — if the Academy found out about this…

_“Come back with a warrant.”_

_Trust me, I would if I could._

Her eyes fixate once more on the watch. Five more minutes until…

“Screw it.”

He wasn’t coming.

Eudora draws her gun, glancing around her surroundings, and slips silently underneath the covered walkway. She forces her breath to steady, gripping the gun with both hands and beginning a slow pace along the rooms, listening. Listening. Most of the curtains are drawn. Lights off. It’s late — an ideal time to pick out _unusual_ noises amongst crickets. It occurs to her that she doesn’t actually know what Diego’s brother _looks_ like, nor _which_ brother it was. He had four, she recalled, one already…deceased. One missing for over a decade. Her mouth tightens into a frown. She couldn’t let any more tragedy befall him — losing both parents in the same week, losing yet _another_ brother to a kidnapping?

No.

“Eudora!”

She inhales sharply, spinning on her heel to point her gun at the voice —

“Diego?”

Her voice is a harsh whisper. She places a finger over her mouth quickly, staring pointedly at him, even as her posture relaxes in relief.

“You came.”

“Of course.” The admittance is followed by a long sideways glance as he draws a knife, “Don’t think too hard about it.”

Eudora snorts despite the situation, her lips turning up in a smirk. “…Thanks. I found a message about your brother, I think — ”

A wet _thump_ catches her attention. Quiet. She holds a hand up before Diego can speak. The noise repeats. It’s a sound she’s unfortunately familiar with: flesh, hit against wood. Repeated. Deliberate. A signal? A plea?

“Hear that?”

“Yeah.”

Diego’s jaw is clenched tight, a white-knuckled grip around his knife. He’s already in front of the door it’s coming from, looking ready to kick it in before Eudora flings an arm in front of him, shaking her head violently, pointing to the cleaning maid who just rounded the corner in front of them.

“I thought we were doing this my way,” he hisses out.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

She taps the woman on the shoulder, ignoring the startled gasp, gesturing rapidly to the door with her gun. The woman hands over a keycard with fumbling, sweaty fingers, eyes wide. Eudora wastes no time in muscling Diego to the side to slide the keycard into the door, opening it as quietly as possible. The room is dark, save a crack of light emanating from the edge of a closed bathroom door, and —

A man is immediately to her left, clothed in nothing but a towel, streaks of blood over the rest of his body. He’s bound to a chair, duct tape over his mouth. Forehead bloody. A quick glance to the table confirms it was him making the noise. His eyes are wild with panic and fear and hope, a whimper making it past the tape over his mouth, and Eudora’s heart aches all over again, knowing this is —

“Klaus?”

Another whimper.

“Is this your brother?”

“Jesus, fuck, what did they do to you?”

Diego’s knives make quick work of the rope around Klaus’s hands as he gestures wildly toward the bathroom with his head. Eudora snaps her focus toward the sliver of light, raising her gun. The door creaks open, and she fires two warning shots, shoving Diego and Klaus to the side with her shoulder.

“Police! Drop your gun, asshole!”

A gun comes into view, held out between two fingers like dirty laundry, and clatters to the ground.

“Okay, okay.” A man’s voice.

“Come out! Hands behind your head!”

A hulk of a man appears, raising his arms, eyes darting between the three of them. Eudora can hear Klaus’s panicked, heavy breathing, and the topple of a chair.

“Where’s the woman?” Diego’s voice is colder than she’s ever heard it; venom-laced. “There were two of you.”

She feels it before she hears it; some deep-seeded instinct warning her something is wrong, someone is in danger, and Eudora turns her head just in time to see a woman behind Diego, who is far too distracted by Klaus’s state to —

“Get down!” She swings her arm wildly to the side and collides with Diego, forcing him off-balance just as the gun goes off with a _crack_.

Pain blinds her.

“ _Eudora!_ ”

The room erupts in a cacophony of noise. A yell, another gunshot, the same sickly sound of flesh against wood. Her vision swims against a black wave. She’s vaguely aware of her own labored breath and a sharp pain in her side. Wet. Something is wet. _I’ve…been shot._ She closes her eyes at the realization, forcing herself to breathe, to focus, to place a hand over the wound despite the flare of searing hot pain. Pressure. It needs pressure. It needs…

Someone — no, Diego, she knows that touch — is lifting her. All she can register is pain.

 

* * *

 

 

_This isn’t a hospital._

It’s her first thought as everything eases back to her senses. There’s no harsh fluorescent lighting, no overwhelming whiteness, no sharp scent of antiseptic. Her vision manifests first — what looks almost like a library surrounds her. There is a light, one they use in surgical rooms, switched off and to her right. And the bed feels like those in patient check up rooms, but… Diego is beside her, head bowed and hands clasped together against his forehead. Eudora opens her mouth — it feels stuffed with cotton. Her limbs may as well be weighed down by bricks. There is no distinguishable noise, as if underwater, and there’s a dull, barely noticeable pain at her side. Dull, but constant. Her lips form a tight grimace as she tries to move a hand, shift her weight, _anything_.

_Where are we? What happened?_

She must have made _some_ sort of noise, for Diego raises his head. His face lights up all at once, chest and shoulders collapsing as he releases a long breath. He says something, his mouth is _moving_ , but her ears remain underwater, and she feels her face deepen in a frustrated scowl. He repeats whatever it is, more urgently, and he’s gripping her hand. It might be painful if she could feel anything more than hazy aches. She tries to open her mouth again just as Diego’s attention is drawn toward something else — she follows his gaze to…

A chimpanzee?

The sight makes no sense.

A chimpanzee. Fully dressed in something she imagines belonged in Victorian-era England, holding a cane, with…glasses? Glasses? Her mind gets stuck on the word like a scratched record, trying to process _whatever_ is before her, and the fact it seems to be _talking_. To Diego.

Her energy depletes attempting to figure out just _what was going on_.

 

* * *

 

 

“…her here.”

“Yeah? You’d rather I let her bleed out at that fucking motel?”

“Maybe a _hospital_ — ”

“Would have raised even _more_ questions!”

Eudora grunts, forcing her eyes open, tongue thick against the dry roof of her mouth. “Di…ego.”

The yelling — well, _tense_ voices, it hadn’t quite escalated — stops immediately. Diego is looking at her again with that same relief, and she almost doesn’t notice the absolutely _massive_ man beside him. He rivaled the one from… Last night? She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out.

“You’re awake…” He sounds uncharacteristically breathy. “Can you hear me?”

She nods.

The other man is staring at her with a half-hearted frown, as if he can’t decide whether to be upset by her presence or not. It takes a moment for her head to clear — all too aware, now, of the throbbing ache at her side.

“Where…am I?”

“My house.” Diego doesn’t meet her gaze for a moment, fidgeting with his glove and glancing to the other man. “My…father’s house.”

He lets that sink in. His _father’s_ house — the one Diego grew up in — the _Hargreeves’ mansion_. Eudora balked. She’d walked past, a few times, on her own, but never…

She’d been _shot_ , and Diego had taken here _here?_

“If the Academy f-found out what you did, they’d…” he trails off, this time picking at the sleeve of his shirt, answering as if he’d read her mind. She can’t remember the last time she saw him like _this_.

All at once, the events of the previous night flood back, and Eudora shoots up, eyes wide. _What you did._ It was supposed to be a _rescue_ mission.

…What had Diego called him?

“What happened to Klaus?”

Diego flinches. He crosses his arms, a thumb brushing over his lips as he avoids her eyes again, letting out a _huff_. “I don’t know. He escaped, somehow. You were — she _shot_ you, Eudora, and I barely managed to get you out of there. Klaus is — ”

“Fine, no doubt. He’ll come back, Diego, he disappears all the time.”

“You didn’t _see_ him, Luther! He’d been tortured! Who knows how injured he was? Is? For all we know — ”

“We’ll find him,” Eudora interrupts. Her voice is set and sure — the tone she uses as _Detective Patch_. “I’m not letting those assholes kill anyone else.” The image of the tow-truck driver flashes behind her eyes briefly: half-naked, tied up, bloodied, burnt, _dead_. Diego had been right. She followed protocol, and that man paid for it with his life. She wouldn’t let the same happen to Diego’s _brother_.

…Brother _s_.

Luther, Diego called him. She remembers his name being mentioned before, amidst those short stories about his childhood he’d tell her on rare occasions. He didn’t seem _pleased_ with her presence, though she could hardly blame him. From everything she’d gathered, not many _outsiders_ came here. Or the family themselves. How long ago had Diego left? Thirteen years? Longer?

She can see the worry in his posture. He never did hide it well — no matter how much he denied it, Diego always seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

Eudora swings her legs over the chair, suppressing a wince as Diego makes some noise of disapproval, but she stands before he can so much as speak.

“Hey — ”

“We don’t have time for me to lay around, Diego. Those psychopaths are still out there. Klaus is still out there.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than footsteps fast approached the room they all stood in — slow, quiet. A shadow passes by the doorway. Hunched. Hollow. More ghost than human.

The three of them share a look. Diego is the first to speak, already stepping into the hallway.

“ _Klaus?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i binged this show like four times in a row, making everyone i know watch it, and realized i had to write something like this, because eudora deserved better. it has been YEARS since i last wrote fanfic (this is a new account, cause i got embarrassed by my old fics...), so i'm still trying to find solid ground. especially because writing diego is... challenging. this fic might be a way for me to experiment with characterization, and i REALLY want to make it into something longer, because i have a lot of ideas!! but i'm also notorious for abandoning stuff, so feel free to bug me to write more if you guys are interested in this!! kudos and comments go a LONG WAY <3 my tumblr is also @transmage if any of y'all want to yell about this amazing show with me!! thank you so much for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!! i really did not expect so many people to read this in such a short amount of time, and all of your comments warm my heart! unfortunately i really can't reply to all of them (and am busy with university and applying to so, so many jobs) but know that i read every single one and that they mean so much <3

Diego grabs Klaus’s shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way his brother flinches at the gesture, turning his head to give a forced smile. Something is…different. It wasn’t unusual for Klaus to have a glazed over expression, not quite all there, senses dulled by all that shit he put in his body.

But this felt _strange_. There was no smudged eyeliner ringing his eyes, no bruise against his forehead. Wearing some army-green vest and… Were those _dog tags?_ Outfit aside, he could attribute the hollow appearance to being tied up and _tortured_ for an entire night, but the eyes staring back at him told a different story. Klaus felt a lifetime away.

“…You look like shit.”

Diego curses at himself the second the words leave his mouth.

“Thanks.”

“No, I didn’t mean — ” He bites his tongue before he says anything else _idiotic_ , his hand still gripping Klaus’s shoulder, too nervous to _let go_ , as if his brother would disappear or disintegrate right in front of him.

“Are you okay?”

Diego turns to stare incredulously at Luther. _Are you okay? Really, Luther? After everything I just told you?_ But _Number One_ isn’t looking at him — gaze instead fixated on Klaus, brows furrowed, shoulders tight in the way they always got when nervous.

Klaus laughs. It’s short and loud, like the bark of a dog.

“Peachy.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, we were _there_ , Klaus. We saw what they — what they did to you. And you just disappeared — did you come back here?”

It takes a second too long for Klaus to answer. He tilts his head to the side, eyes glazing over briefly, as if he’s gone somewhere else again. A nod. He shakes the curls out of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Long night.” With a pat of his hand against Diego’s chest, he tugs his shoulder out of the other’s grip and heads down the stairs, waving a hand absentmindedly behind him. “I need a drink.”

None of them move.

“Okay,” Luther says after a moment, “am I the only one who thought that was _weird_ , even for Klaus?”

“He’s in shock.” Eudora leans against the doorway, clutching her side, lips in a tight frown. “I’ve seen this plenty of times before. Let me talk to him.”

Diego’s eyes soften. Seeing her here, in his _house_ , was…surreal. It’d been a dream, once, back when they were still together and he thought it would _stay_ that way. One day, he told himself, he’d introduce her to his family. Not that he felt he needed their approval, and not that he thought it was even a _good idea_ , considering all the shit between them, but that’s what one’s supposed to do with their significant other, right? Allison, despite not speaking to them for _years_ , still invited them all to her wedding. Not that he _went_ , but everyone says it’s the thought that counts, right?

And Eudora had been so patient, through his fits of anger and vents about his upbringing. She’d been there when Vanya published her damn book, she’d seen his reaction; she never read it, out of respect for his privacy. Yet…

They both knew each other’s faults. They both knew why they broke up.

Didn’t make it any easier seeing her laying on that motel floor, a bullet through her side, bleeding out, barely conscious… Didn’t make it any easier seeing her _here_ , next to Luther, meeting his family in the worst circumstances, _caring_ so damn much about Klaus.

Not that he expected any different. She always cared. Even if…

“You don’t know him, Eudora. He could — ”

“Do _you_ know him, Diego? You told me yourself, didn’t you? When was the last time you spoke to him? Twelves years ago?”

 _Ouch_. He opens his mouth, pauses, and quickly decides against speaking. Instead he frowns. An expression mirrored by Luther, whose brows shoot up, mouth frozen open as he looks between the two of them.

“You dragged me into this, Diego, and I’m gonna see it through.” She holds up a hand as he inhales and tries to speak again. “Not up for debate!”

Eudora gathers herself, standing straight, managing to look regal even in a ripped, blood-stained shirt. He can see the pain behind her eyes with every step as she walks past them, down the staircase, and has to physically restrain himself from jumping to her aid. She’d only resent it.

Luther clears his throat as her figure disappears around the curve of the stairs.

“She’s — ”

“Don’t say it.”

“I was only gonna say _quite a woman_. I can see how you were a good fit.”

“ _Don’t_.”

“What?”

“Just — ” Diego resorts to a glare. “She’s a better person than any of us deserve.”

 

* * *

 

She can see Klaus at the bar, because of _course_ they have a bar, nestled in the back of — was this a living room? A sitting room? Just for decor? The sheer size and openness of the house is already beginning to make her feel _small_. One wrong turn and she’d be lost in the labyrinth forever. Good thing Klaus didn’t go far.

He glances in her direction as she approaches. A bottle of Smirnoff is already in his hand (and she thinks it a touch hilarious that with this huge expanse of a mansion, he’s drinking _Smirnoff_ of all things), and he raises it in greeting. A harsh character change from what she witnessed a minute ago, which gives her pause, but at least it’s better than him _bolting_.

“So you’re the girlfriend, huh?” He takes a long drink straight from the bottle as he turns his body to look at her.

“ _Ex_ -girlfriend,” Eudora punctuates, sliding into the barstool next to him and exhaling sharply as a jolt of pressure rushes through her side.

“Oh, aha, right. Finally got tired of all his _brooding?_ ”

“…Something like that.”

He offers her the bottle. Eudora gives Klaus a once over, judging if this was the _best decision_. …Probably not. She takes it from him anyway, swinging it back to take a drink — and nearly _choking_ on the stringent taste. With a sputtering cough she hands it back, side-eyeing Klaus.

“You’re really just drinking that straight?”

“Oh no, honey, there’s nothing _straight_ about this.” Fingers wrap around the dog tags hanging against his chest. His face is briefly plastered with a dopey smile. Eudora sees it fracture. Those fingers squeeze harder, and he makes a soft sort of _strangled_ noise, as if choking back tears.

She leans forward with furrowed brows.

“Do you…remember last night?”

“Last night?”

Suddenly, she isn’t sure if he’s completely _present_. He seems to focus on something on the other side of the bar, frowning at it, before glancing over at the bandaged bullet wound at her side.

“You…came for me. And Diego.” A laugh. “I told Hazel and Cha-Cha that no one would.”

It’s said with such certainty that Eudora finds herself at a loss for words. He reminds her, _painfully_ , of Diego. No trust in his own family — perhaps rightfully so. Had he already resigned himself to being forgotten? To death at the hands of his captors? Some part of him must cling to a spark of life, as he had the drive to bang his head against that table in a cry for help.

Eudora doesn’t consider herself a _touchy-feely_ person, but she’s hit with an overwhelming desire to _hug_ him. In her line of work, she’d seen a lot of shells of human beings, but she always kept an emotional distance out of necessity. But this wasn’t a _case_ , not really, not on the books.

She’s been silent for too long. Klaus keeps looking between her and that spot across the bar.

“Thank you,” he starts again, before she has a chance to gather her thoughts, “for…saving me. You risked your life for me.” He’s staring at her wound again. She decides she doesn’t like the way he says the last part — not quite a question, not quite a statement. Disbelief threading through his voice as if the concept of risking _anything_ for him was completely foreign.

Just like Diego.

She can remember all too well the self-destructive twenty-year-old who desperately tried to belong to the Police Academy.

Eudora extends her hand in lieu of a ‘ _you’re welcome_ ’. “Detective Eudora Patch.”

“Detective, huh?” He shakes her hand delicately. “Klaus Hargreeves. As I’m sure my _dear brother Diego_ has mentioned.”

“Once or twice.”

In truth, she _does_ remember Diego talking about him when they were still together. He’d talked about all his siblings in one way or another, and his sad excuse for a father, and his mother. She remembers the _drugs_ , and how much it pained him to see his brother surrender his life to them. How they’d run into each other occasionally, only long enough for Diego to take Klaus to rehab, knowing it wouldn’t last. But he told her that for at least that month, he knew Klaus would be safe, and that was always better than the alternative.

It was one of the things she would always love about him — he cared, deeply and unapologetically, about helping people. About his family. Even if he’d verbally deny it.

 _Especially_ when he denied it.

“Were Hazel and Cha-Cha the ones who kidnapped you?”

“Ha, _yeah_. Pals of dear old _Five_ , apparently. He’s the one they wanted.”

“Wait. Wasn’t he your brother who disappeared…?”

“Seventeen years ago? _Yeah_.” Klaus laughs around the word, taking another drink from the bottle. “He came back a few days ago.”

All Eudora can do is stare.

“I’m guessing Diego failed to mention that.”

“I’d say so, yeah!”

“Well, if you see a thirteen-year-old kid wandering around, don’t freak out. It’s just Five.”

“ _What?_ ”

Klaus waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Time travel, don’t get me started.”

She can’t tell if the casual manner in which he relays all this means he doesn’t expect her to believe him, he’s drunk, or this type of shit is just _normal_ for their family. From everything Diego’s told her, probably some combination of all three.

But she _did_ grow up in this city. She knew as well as anyone the history of the famed Umbrella Academy. Her father even bought some of the comic book issues for her as a kid; she never told Diego this, for she’d never hear the end of it, but she also used to have an _action figure_ of Allison. As a young woman of color, she’d served as a role model and inspiration to Eudora for quite a while. She was also the one member of Diego’s family Eudora had always been _nervous_ about meeting.

Growing up with the presence of the Umbrella Academy around the city also meant she knew their _powers_. She bites her tongue, trying to think back on what she remembered about Five. Teleportation? Had time travel been a later development, or an accident? …Was it even _possible?_ The skeptic in her said _no_ , but how could she deny it in the face of _teleportation?_ Of the ability to warp reality with a rumor? Of those _monsters_ that had come out of Number Six’s chest?

She studies Klaus for a moment longer. _Number Four_. _The Seance_. Right. She was talking to someone who could see and communicate with the dead, so sure, time travel, why not?

All at once she remembers the way Klaus kept looking at a fixed point behind the bar, the way he’s _still doing it_ , as if there’s something there she can’t see. Or someone. Maybe there is. The thought makes the hair on her arms stand on end.

“…I think I might need another drink.”

He passes the vodka back over with a snort.

She’s starting to forget why she came down here in the first place.

“I didn’t know you served,” she says, setting the bottle down with a nod to the dog tags.

Klaus’s eyes go wide.

“How did — ” He stops himself, following her gaze, and clutches the metal against his chest again. “Oh. These…aren’t mine.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah. He’s…”

She knows that look. Eudora places a hand on his arm, her mouth in a tight grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Yeah_.” His eyes are beginning to get that same glassy appearance as earlier. “He was the only person I ever loved more than myself. We…soldiered together in the A Shau Valley. The war — ”

“ _Vietnam?_ ” Eudora speaks before she can think. Despite Klaus _just_ mentioning time travel, her mind can’t comprehend the implication of this man fighting in the _Vietnam War_ and then returning to 2019. Was this — she can’t help but question if his statement has something to do with drugs, or the fact he can speak to the dead, or —

A _pop_ interrupts them both.

It’s a kid. A boy is suddenly before them, behind the bar, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, adorned in the Umbrella Academy uniform she remembers seeing on TV.

“You didn’t tell me _that_ ,” he says, directed at Klaus, expression completely unreadable. He spares her a glance. As if it’d explain everything, he shrugs: “I’m not the only one in this family who’s time-traveled now.”

Oh. Well.

She’s going to need a lot more vodka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am usually a ridiculously slow writer so i'm actually surprised at myself for writing this so quickly after the first chapter, but honestly, writing for eudora is a lot more fun than i initially expected. thank you all for reading!! once again, my tumblr is @transmage if you want to hit me up there!


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